


Legacy

by Soulsisterblondzilla



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Dragon Age II Spoilers, Drunkenness, F/M, Legacy DLC, M/M, hawke twin au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5033416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulsisterblondzilla/pseuds/Soulsisterblondzilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little (big, spent-far-too-much-time-on) AU where Marian and Garrett Hawke are twins; M!fenhawke and F!handers. Set during the Legacy DLC, we take a look at Marian and Garrett's childhood together and follow their disovery of their father's past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As Malcolm Hawke grew older, certain things – things that used to bother the _hell_ out of him - barely had an effect on him anymore. He thought it a mark of maturity that he could now take the odd grey hair in his stride; he had finally accepted that he could no longer survive on five hours sleep a night. It hurt, but it was _just_ _one of those things,_ as Leandra liked to say. 

As was, apparently, someone slamming a heavy fist on their door moments before he was about to settle into bed. He glanced at Leandra and chuckled at the dangerously sour frown she gave him. 

“If they snuck out _again…”_

Malcolm stood, stretching his arms above his head and shooting her a lazy grin, “I’ll get them.” 

He put on his most charming smile and opened the door to a furious Chantry Sister, holding a grinning Garrett by one ear and a scowling Marian by the other. His smile faded. Garrett’s eye was an ugly deep purple, swollen around the edges, and Marian’s nose was breeding so freely that it dripped steadily off of her chin and onto the floor, dark bruises blossoming outwards to her cheeks. 

His eyes snapped back up to the Sister as she damn near screamed in his face, _“Brawling!_ In the _Chantry!”_

He raised an eyebrow, “Hmm. Kids, huh?” 

She stared at him incredulously for a moment, “Did you not hear me, Ser?” Her voice grew steadily louder, “In the _Chantry!_ Under the very _eye_ of the _Maker!”_

He scowled. He couldn’t help it. “I’m fairly sure the Maker has seen worse, Sister.” He met her furious expression with one of his own, “Now, would you please let go of my children?” 

She released them like she’d been burned, face blanching a sickly yellow as Garrett scurried straight past him. Marian took a moment to flip her the finger before following suit. The Sister grimaced, gathering herself and jabbing her finger into Malcolm’s chest. 

_ “You  _ must learn to control your children before they end up in a cell!” 

“Is that a threat?” 

She stared. She took a step back, brushing herself down. “Of course not, Ser. A friendly warning.” 

Malcolm rolled his eyes, “duly noted.”

Then, he slammed the door in her face. 

_ “Ow!  _ Mum!” 

“Excuse me? Did _I_ make you throw punches in a Chantry?” 

Leandra was fussing over Marian’s nose as she perched on the edge of the dinner table, wincing as she pulled her chin up sharply and wiped at it with a rough hand. 

“It was Garrett’s fault.” Marian grumbled, eyes watering as she glared off to the side. 

Garrett peeked over the back of the armchair across the room, eyes wide with guilt, “I didn’t _ask_ you to beat them up.” 

Her eyes flashed fiercely, “They _hit_ you.”

Leandra groaned, “You can’t just go beating people up in Chantries – _oh for –_ Malcolm, look at this, I think it’s broken.” 

He grimaced, “Got it.” 

He sat opposite Marian and she looked away from him, grumbling bitterly under her breath, “Stupid kid got a lucky punch in… There were more than I thought there’d be.” 

He gently guided her back, hands beginning to warm gently over her cheeks, “How many _were_ there?” 

“Six.” 

His eyebrows shot up, _“Six?”_

Oh _man._ That was impressive. He grinned as Garrett jumped up, balancing precariously on the back of the armchair. 

“She took every one of them!” He punched the air rapidly with both fists, _“Bam, bam, bam!_ Out cold!” 

Malcolm chuckled, “You only knocked them out? How civil of you.” 

She scowled, “There were too many of them to do anything else. And…” She flushed, “…That Sister was going to get a Templar.” 

Leandra gasped, freezing on her way to drag Garrett down from the back of the sofa, “Marian!” 

She squirmed, “She didn’t! Because I stopped! And I didn’t say anything, I didn’t -”

Malcolm shushed her, stilling her face with his hands again, “Don’t worry, it all worked out. So…” He leaned forward, “Are you gonna find these kids again later?” 

_ “Malcolm.”  _

Leandra fixed him with a frankly terrifying glare that firmly reminded him of his fatherly duties. 

He attempted to twist his smirk into a disapproving frown, “Because _that,_ young lady, would be _bad.”_

She didn’t look convinced. Leandra sighed, looking between them, “Why were you in the _Chantry,_ of all places?” 

Garrett threw his hands dramatically into the air, “They didn’t think Marian would beat them up in there!” 

Leandra sighed wistfully, “If only.” 

_ Rap, rap, rap.  _ Frantic knocking on the door. Again. One of the other kid’s parents, he expected. He smiled hopefully at Leandra and she rolled her eyes, heading for the door. He ruffled Marian’s hair as soon as she was out of earshot. 

“Next time, find them one by one.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifteen years later, and the Hawkes are in Kirkwall. The Arishok is dead, Marian has been named Champion - and she can't fight the nagging feeling that everything is going downhill very, very fast. 
> 
> Set during the Act 2-3 gap; Marian and Anders are living together, and Fenris has broken up with Garrett after their first night together.

Marian sighed softly to herself. Fifteen years later, and everything was… different.

“Broody, Blondie, I _really_ thought you’d be better at this by now.”

“I _am,”_ Fenris growled, glaring at his cards as if considering throwing them into the fire and being done with it, hopelessly trying to cover his bare chest and legs.

Anders was in just as sorry a state. He stared intently at his own cards, eyes wide with something that near-approached panic. Marian snickered, leaning back in her chair and turning one of her _many_ gold pieces between her fingers. She blamed the uncharacteristic quiet of the Hanged Man that night for her random bout of nostalgia – that, and the niggling worry that twisted in the back of her thoughts every time she looked at Garrett. Her smile faded. Garrett and Marian were the only ones left, now. Both their mother and father gone, Carver gone, Bethany trapped in the circle. And now Garrett had been acting strange ever since he and Fenris spent the night together.

“You feeling alright, love?”

She glanced up and found seven pairs of eyes staring at her. Anders was leaning forward, cards forgotten as he leaned across the table towards her, brows furrowed in worry.

Garrett abruptly held up a finger, bare chest puffed out importantly. He’d given up playing when he’d lost even his underwear.

“Reasons _not_ to duel the Arishok – head wounds may result in crazy.”

She pulled a face at him and he smirked, “Shut up. I just spaced out for a bit.”

Anders didn’t look convinced. She raised an eyebrow and forced a smile, _“You_ should be more concerned about the next hand losing you your pants.”

He cursed, eyes flicking back to his cards, “I don’t understand! I was doing fine last week.”

Marian hummed knowingly. Thatwas because he wasn’t sitting next to _Garrett_ last week. Marian, Isabela and Varric were the only ones left in the running tonight; the only people who had realized long ago that Garrett not only _sucked_ at this game, but he sucked _so_ bad that it radiated out to whoever was on either side of him.

Fenris shrugged off Garrett’s arm for the hundredth time that night – and for the hundredth time, Marian noticed the flicker of hurt that crossed Garrett’s face before he sighed dramatically, throwing himself back in his chair.

Fenris scowled at him, “Put some clothes on, Hawke! You’ve been out of the game for hours-”

Garrett smirked towards him, making him flush a deep scarlet, “I could wear _yours,_ if you’re that desperate.”

Marian snorted, throwing her hand down as Varric collected the cards, “Calm down, Fenris. He’s not exactly impressive.”

She caught Anders’ eyes flickering down to Garrett’s crotch for a moment, one eyebrow raised, just before Garrett began to stand, voice rising in mock outrage, “How _dare_ you-”

Aveline barely covered her eyes in time, “Hawke, if you don’t sit down _right_ now I will _chop it off.”_

Isabela hummed as she hungrily watched Varric shuffle, “That _would_ be a shame.”

Garrett nodded in agreement and sat down again as Varric dealt out the cards out. The table fell silent. The three of them watched Garrett’s face intently as Fenris and Anders picked up their hands. A frown for Anders – he had nothing. _Two_ raised eyebrows for Fenris – better than what Marian had. They all folded the minute Fenris raised.

Garrett patted him lightly on the back as he buried his face in his hands, “Aw. You had such a good hand.”

“I _know.”_

He smirked, “Underwear now?”

 _“No,”_ Fenris snapped. He brushed Garrett’s hand off him again as he straightened up.

Anders _finally_ twigged it. Marian smirked at him as he caught her eye, looking between Garrett and his cards and abruptly throwing his hand down, eyes gleaming.

He leapt up from the table, “Aveline, switch places with me.”

Aveline snorted and pointed at Garrett, “I'm not going anywhere _near_ him until he puts underwear on.”

Anders shook his head in mock disappointment, “Come now, it's not _that_ horrific – only slightly deformed.”

He winked. Marian snorted into her drink as Garrett sighed heavily, “Really, if everyone keeps insulting me I'm gonna _have_ to put it away.”

“Merrill?”

Merrill tipped her head to the side and blinked at Anders. She’d been sitting safely next to Marian – she’d still lost every bit of coin she had, but at least it was _fair._

“I'm, um, I'm quite comfortable here, thank you-”

“You _don't_ want to sit next to Garrett?”

Merrill tripped over her words in sudden panic, “That's not- um- no, what I mean to say is-”

Anders smiled at her. It was one of those smiles that softened the lines around his eyes and made them shine. “Please?”

Merrill slowly stood, giggling nervously, “Alright...”

They switched, Anders letting himself drop into the seat next to Marian and Merrill blushing furiously as dragged her into his chest for a hug.

“How long has he been giving our cards away?” Anders mumbled in her ear, snaking a hand around her waist and pulling her close.

She smirked, “All bloody year. I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to notice.”

“Clearly I’ve been distracted by someone else.” He didn’t lose the gleam in his eye when he huffed, eyes scanning the table, “Alright, who has my shirt? I’m winning it back.”

“I _wonder.”_ She slowly pulled his battered white shirt from her lap and deliberately slipped it on. He laughed as she jutted her chin out, “Fight me for it.”

“Gladly.”

 

* * *

 

 

Marian received the message to pick Garrett up again just a few hours after her and Anders had gone back to the estate. She’d left Garrett behind so that he could ‘spend some time with his favourite dwarf’ – clearly his favourite dwarf wasn’t feeling it that night.

Alone this time, she stepped back into the eerily silent Hanged Man. The lamplights were dim and bar stools had been placed haphazardly on top of tables, the usual smell of ale and sweat cleaned away for the night.

The worry was back again, twisting in her gut. Something was wrong, she was sure of it – something was _always_ wrong.

She found Garrett in Varric’s room, slumped across the table, racked with weak, strained laughter. She winced at the sight.

Varric leaned back next to him, tapping his fingers together in a steeple and attempting to smile serenely, “Seems a year doesn’t go by without _one_ of the Hawkes passing out at my table.” His smile faded, “Seriously though, you guys have issues.”

Marian tried to laugh, “Of course we do. Can you imagine growing up with _that?”_

She gestured to Garrett. He slurred something against the wooden table – Marian didn’t catch it, but if his hysterical laughter was anything to go by, it had been absolutely hilarious.

Varric patted him on the shoulder soothingly, “Point taken. Now, I love you both, but kindly get him the hell out of my room.”

 

* * *

 

 

The moment she’d managed to drag him out of the tavern – and she was sure there wouldn’t be any prying eyes floating around – she swung him into a cradle in her arms and set off walking. It wasn’t exactly the easiest hold, but she was more than strong enough and she knew from experience that having Garrett’s face near your arse was a recipe for disaster. He seemed happy enough, beard scratching against her skin as he snuggled into her chest.

He abruptly frowned, words slurring together as he looked blearily up at her, “You’re not wearing armour.”

She huffed, “I’m not as paranoid as you think, you know.”

“Bet _every coin I have_ you’ve still got the sword.”

Marian smiled, feeling the blade tap against her hip with every step. “I don't need it. I can just use you as a drunken battering ram.”

Garrett laughed. He was steadily sounding a little more sober. He wrapped his arms around her neck and sighed.

“I'm sad, Sis.”

She looked down at him, frowning. His dark eyes stared ahead. He didn’t _look_ sad _–_ such a thing on Garrett would be so out of place it would almost be funny – but he wasn't smiling. That was enough.

“I know, Garrett.” She said, softly.

“You do?”

She rolled her eyes, “You're many things, Garrett, but _'hard to read'_ is _not_ one of them.” She glanced away from him, “…I was worried. It’s Fenris, isn’t it?”

He looked up at her and raised a quizzical eyebrow. He seemed to think for a long time. Eventually, he spoke as if he’d picked every single word carefully and deliberately.

“…I like to think of myself as ' _bewildering'_.”

She scowled. “I _wish_ I was still bewildered by you. And you didn’t answer my question, asshole.”

Garrett snuggled back into her chest. “I could bewilder you. I could... take all my clothes off?”

“That wouldn't be bewildering. That would be disgusting. Besides, you’ve already done that today.”

He fell silent, clearly thinking very hard. Finally, with the utmost sincerity, he spoke.

“I _could_ tell you that I'm in love with Fenris.”

Marian froze. She stared at him.

Garret let out a loud bellow of a laugh, _“Bewildering,_ isn't it?”

Marian stared down at him, quite shocked. She nodded stiffly. “You could say that, yeah.”

“…He won’t even talk to me.”

“Garrett…”

But suddenly he was the same old Garrett again, eyes a little fuzzy from drink, a stupid grin that crinkled his eyes and made her want to punch him after just a second of seeing it. He bounced his head off her chest, humming to himself as if the conversation had never even happened.

“Your boobs are getting _smaller,_ Sis – is that even possible?”

She gave him a flat look.

“You should do whatever it is Isabela does, because it clearly works-”

“Garrett, shut up.” She started walking again.

“Just trying to spice up your relationship. Though I suppose Justice probably covers that. I _have_ always wondered what it would be like...”

She scowled, “You _do_ realise I could just drop you in the river?”

“Good idea, I can go ask Anders about it instead. Hypothermia is a good excuse.”

Marian groaned. Garrett laughed. They walked on towards Hightown, and Marian tried to ignore the feeling in her gut that told her everything would be downhill from here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years later, and things have gone downhill. Garrett's not taking the break up well, and Marian is trying to handle it the best she can - then the Carta begin their attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to warn everyone, you might notice I've updated the tags to include alcoholism/depression/etc just to be safe - this fic won't revolve around Garrett's depression, but it is featured pretty heavily in this chapter. Stay safe!

Anders groaned when she stomped through the front door, manuscript rustling and lantern flickering in the half-light as he pushed away from the desk and moved towards her.

“Marian- I _knew_ you wouldn't be able to just talk to him.”

Marian made sure to slam the door shut, flinching as the movement sent a spike of pain through her bruised arm. Anders took her face in his hands, brows furrowed darkly as he inspected the gash throbbing under her swollen eye.

“Makers breath, that’s deep. I’m going to kill that elf.”

“You should see _him_ ,” Marian tried for a smirk, but her heart wasn’t in it. She sighed, pushing his hands away gently, “Later, I need to go pick up Garrett.”

“He won’t exactly respond positively to that black eye.”

“He’ll be too blind-drunk to notice.”

Anders grimaced at her, a sad tilt to his head. It _had_ been meant as a joke, but the words scraped bitterly at the back of her throat. She turned to leave and he caught her hand.

“It’s been two years, love. I think maybe both of you need to get over this.” He smiled wryly. “And please, get some sleep.”

“You can talk.”

He raised an eyebrow. She shrugged and looked down.

“…I’m trying.”

He let her go, sighing as she wiped the worst of the blood off of her cheek with her sleeve.

 

* * *

 

 

“What do you mean, _gone?_ Varric-” Marian steadied herself on the door frame. She took a deep breath that didn’t reach far enough. “I thought you were looking after him, Varric!”

Varric shot her a glare as he threw his coat on, extinguishing the candle flickering by the bed in his room. A pool of ale dripped steadily off the table and broken shards of glass littered the floor.

“He’s a grown-ass man! I can’t lock him in here!”

Marian tried for another breath and it just made her dizzy. She rubbed at her forehead, eyes squeezed shut, “He could be _anywhere.”_

She heard a rattle of keys cut-off as Varric paused, “When was the last time you _slept,_ Champ?” Marian had no idea. She just shook her head.

Varric sighed, “Look, don’t panic, alright? He won’t have gotten far. Chances are he’s just run into Rivaini on the way to Hightown or something.”

“But why didn’t he _wait_ for me?”

Varric gestured to her black eye, expression dark, “Why d’you think? He caught sight of Broody and realized you were fighting again – went after him.”

Marian groaned, lifting her hand and squinting against the bright light and rush of laughter from the tavern as she turned out of Varric’s room. She heard him drop into place beside her.

“It’s like having a dog you can’t keep hold of,” she grumbled darkly.

“No, Champ. It’s like having a brother who has enough problems without _you_ starting fights with his ex every damned opportunity you get!”

Marian snarled down at him, “You’re blaming this on _me?”_ She pointed to her own face, _“I_ wanted to talk, Varric! I didn’t go looking for this-”

Varric shook his head, “All I’m saying is that almost _killing_ each other once a month for two years isn’t gonna do Hawke any favours.”

Marian gritted her teeth and kicked at the tavern door – ignoring the angry shout from the barkeep – and stepped out into the cool night.

 

* * *

 

 

Garrett wasn’t sure when he had lost sight of Fenris, the pale shock of hair disappearing into a wall of fuzzy darkness down a narrow alleyway. He gave up. He slumped down onto the cobblestones, hearing the tiny splashes of water but barely feeling the cold wet of that afternoon’s rain seeping through his trousers. He let his eyes close with a loll of his neck as the world pitched and spun, dropping the back of his head against the wall with a hollow _knock_ that, at any other time, probably would have been painful. His breath slowed. Thoughts lengthened and darkened and grew indistinct, twisting…

 _Thunk._ Garrett eyes flickered open and he slowly looked to the side. He tried to move his arm, but something held it to the wall by his shirt. He leaned in for a closer look, squinting through the gloom. Something… that flashed.

“Yep, that’s him.”

Hands abruptly hauled him up; large, gauntleted hands that tore the fabric from under the dagger without a care, throwing him to his feet effortlessly. _Marian…?_

They spun him around, pinning his hands roughly behind his back and beginning to tie them. _No._

He threw himself to the side, the world pitching nauseatingly as he crashed into another pair of hands. _Shit._

He yelled. He tried to roll between them but he couldn’t see, and more hands grasped at the back of his shirt and pulled him back, something colliding swiftly with the side of his head. He grunted at the pain, feet pitching and rolling and sending him to his knees.

Then a scream, _“It’s the Champion!”_

A chorus of curses erupted around Garrett, hands dropping him and weapons drawing, clean rings of metal on metal. The scream cut off in a gurgling wail. Garrett tried to stand but a heavy hand fell on his shoulder and forced him back down again.

Whoever it was shouted angrily, voice gruff and impatient, “She’s not even _armed!_ Just kill her!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” a familiar voice purred, “You’ve just attacked her _brother._ I’d like to see you try.”

His answering yell was cut off quickly, Isabela clear in the moonlight as she jumped in front of Garrett, launching a dagger at an approaching axe-wielding dwarf. He fell heavily to the ground.

“Y’alright, Hawke?” He heard Varric before he saw him, skidding into a wide stance next to Isabela and sending an arrow into the brawling fray at the mouth of the alley. Garrett blinked up at him.

Varric eventually sighed, “Champ was right, I shouldn’t have let you go anywhere.”

Garrett managed to stumble to his feet as the sounds of fighting simmered out. He leaned heavily against the alley wall, bleary eyes finding Marian as she stormed towards him, blood smeared across her face and glinting on her knuckles. She pushed past Isabela with a snarl and grasped Garrett by the front of his shirt.

“Next time, _you_ _wait for me.”_ She hissed.

He nodded dumbly, looking down. He heard her sigh noisily, a hitch in her breath, before moving her hand to grip his shoulder instead. He felt her forehead rest on his shoulder.

“Looks like Carta to me, Champ.” Garrett glanced over in time to see Varric pull an arrow out of a dead dwarf’s chest with a grunt, frowning hard.

Isabela was just a few steps away, rooting through pockets, “They were binding his hands, though. Slavers?”

Marian growled something Garrett couldn’t hear into his chest, but Varric shook his head. “Not their style. I’ll look into it, see what I can dig up. In the meantime…” he pointed the arrow in his hand between Garrett and Marian, _“you two_ are gonna get some sleep, alright?”

Garrett barely noticed Isabela propping herself under his left arm, “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you home.”

He nodded again, letting her and Marian drag him out of the alleyway, feet stumbling over themselves as he tried to walk.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett isn't the only one who's taking the break-up hard, and Fenris isn't going to let the Carta attack the Hawkes without stepping in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this one! Updates will probably be less regular this month because I'm swamped with Nanowrimo on top of everything else - but I'll try my best to get the updates through! Thanks for sticking with me!

Fenris spun on his heel yet again, turning back towards his mansion. He couldn’t do it – _shouldn’t,_ it wasn’t his place, not anymore. He brought a hand to his brow, wincing at the still throbbing bruise there from the day before; he had no interest in fighting Marian two days in a row. It was best for everyone if he _stayed away._

His feet abruptly slowed on the loose cobblestones and someone almost walked into his back, shoving past him with a snarled word. He ignored them. He _couldn’t_ stay away, not after what he’d heard – Carta were after _all_ of the Hawkes. Garrett had been attacked twice now and was confined to the estate until further notice, a group of them tried to break into the Circle to get to Bethany only to beaten back by Templars, and even one truly _idiotic_ group went for Marian herself while near the mage’s clinic in full armour – they certainly hadn’t lasted long. Aveline had told him everything, and he was sick with worry. He scowled and turned on his heel once again, shooting another grumbling woman a dark look that silenced her immediately.

He got to the estate quickly, not allowing himself to change his mind this time. As he approached the front door, a sudden movement caught his eye. He frowned and looked up, shading his eyes against the sun; blaring unapologetically over the rooftops. His eyes widened. Small, lithe figures jumped across the roof. One was quietly working one of the windows.

He kicked the door down in one movement. It made an almighty cracking noise as it split apart and he jumped straight through it, plunging into the entrance hall and sprinting into the sitting room, swinging his sword from his back.

Anders and Isabela were there. Anders’ mouth dropped open in shock and he jumped back, the tiniest of blue flames flickering around his fingertips.

 _“Upstairs!”_ He snapped at him as he tore towards the staircase.

Isabela sprung to her feet, daggers appearing out of thin air. Anders understood quickly, barking to Bodahn and Sandal to hide in the next room as he snatched up his staff.

He found himself throwing open Garrett’s door first, heading there before he’d even heard the shouts coming from within. Marian was wrestling with a Carta dwarf. She lay protectively across Garrett’s chest while he attempted to roll out from under them – the combined weight was too much. Fenris threw himself forward, flinging the dwarf back through the window with a swing of his sword. She narrowly avoided colliding with another as he hung on the ledge – but he abruptly burst into flames, Fenris ducking the ball of heat as it sailed over his head. Fenris heard the retreat called from above almost immediately, feet clattering over the roof one by one until the estate fell silent.

Fenris turned to the bed. Marian and Garrett sat up, half-dressed from sleeping, breathing heavily. Marian looked like she could breathe fire at any moment. Garrett was staring at him. Fenris looked down, shifting uncomfortably.

“That’s _it.”_ Marian snapped. He heard her throw herself off the bed with a dull _thud_. “I don’t care if Varric _‘isn’t ready’ –_ I’m going there _today.”_

She pushed past him, pausing for a moment as they locked eyes. She glanced away irritably.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

He followed her as she stomped down the stairs, noting that Isabela had remained in the room – she moved over to Garrett with odd cooing noises at the back of her throat. He shook his head and tried his best to ignore it.

“Marian-”

“Bodahn! Where’s my armour?”

Bodahn stuck his head out of the room they’d been hiding in, “Going on a dangerous venture today, Missere? Have you had enough rest for such an exertion?”

“You’re not my mum, Bodahn, I just want my armour.”

“Marian-”

Anders shoved past him hard enough that he stumbled. He shot him a dark look as he stepped over to Marian, putting a hand on her arm and speaking to her quietly enough that Fenris couldn’t hear. Marian just shook her head.

He tried again, gripping his sword, “Marian-”

She hissed, finally turning to him, _“Why_ are you still here?”

He straightened up, meeting her glare, “I want to go with you.”

Her expression twisted, “You _what?”_

“I want to help, they’ve gotten through too often. I was worried-”

 _“Worried?”_ Her eyes went dark. Fenris had seen it a hundred times and yet he still couldn’t help stepping back when she advanced on him, nose abruptly inches away from his own, “Everything you’ve done, and you’re saying you’re _worried?”_

Fenris stood his ground, straightening up as tall as he could go. Rage pulsed through his veins yet again. It wasn’t _fair._

He clenched his fists.

“Oh for- Can’t you two give it a _day_ , at least?”

Marian turned to reveal Varric, stepping gingerly over the remains of the estate’s front door.

He glared at them, “I mean it,” he turned to Anders and shook his head mournfully, “How could you let this go on, Blondie?”

Anders sighed, “I was looking forward to the excuse to join in, to be honest with you.”

Marian turned away from him with a final glare, moving to help Bodahn with her armour as he lugged it in, “We were attacked again, Varric.”

“So I see. Well, I’ve got everything ready, Champ, I know exactly where we’re going – we can get moving as soon as you’re ready.”

“How about now?” Marian spoke with a tight smile, throwing her sword into a sheath.

“Are you up to it?” Concern flitted across Varric’s features.

Fenris frowned, “Why? What’s wrong with you?”

Marian just shot him a glare before turning it upon Varric, “Look, the sooner I kill these assholes, the sooner I can get some sleep. That alright with you, _dad?”_

“It does actually make sense,” Anders sighed, shrugging.

“Well then,” Varric slung Bianca over his shoulder, a tired smirk pulling at his lips, “Time to make even _more_ people scared shitless of you, Champ.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they prepare to find out why the Carta is attacking them, Marian remembers back to when her and Garrett were teenagers - still causing trouble, still completely and utterly unapologetic about it.

The door opened a _lot_ louder than they thought it would. Garrett had kicked it open as Marian perched precariously on his back, and he burst out laughing when the loud _crash_ echoed throughout the dark house and Marian quickly clamped both of her hands over his mouth.

_“Sshhhh...”_

He went as still as he could go, hiccuping every now and then as a giggle forced its way out of his chest. Marian listened carefully – though in truth, she couldn't _actually_ hear anything but that weird ringing sound – and she carefully released his mouth.

“I think... we're in the clear.”

Garrett slurred, swaying as he closed the door behind them with his foot. _“Still_ think we should've gone through the _window...”_

She buried her face into his shoulder, feeling dizzy just at the thought. _“No,_ it's too _high…”_ She looked up again, blinking around. Shapeless blurs turned into their sitting room and she decided she felt a _lot_ better. “Can walk now, I can walk-”

She slithered off of Garrett's back, stepped forward – and somehow found herself plummeting towards the floor. She felt Garrett's hands at her arms and then they _both_ ended up on the floor in a tangle of arms, legs, and... what was _that?_ She groaned as she felt something cold and wet seeping through her clothes.

“What the _fu_ …”

Garrett sat up and fixed her with a serious look. He whispered conspiratorially. “I took some of the wine with me.”

“Mum's gonna kick your ass.”

“Well, it _is_ all over my ass now. Caught red-assed.”

It was the funniest thing Marian had ever heard in her _life_. They rocked with laughter, draped over each other and miserably failing to keep each other quiet. It wasn't long before a white orb lit up the room around them. They fell silent as their parents stood above them, arms sternly crossed.

Marian punched Garrett on the shoulder, “You were too _loud!”_ She shouted, loudly.

Garrett was already holding up what was left of the wine bottle, a smug, entitled smirk to his lips, “Would you like a glass, Mother? Father?”

Leandra buried her face in her hands, “Maker give me strength...”

Malcolm took the moment to cover up the identical smirk breaking out on his face with a confused frown. “Where did you get the wine?”

“Please don't say-”

“-the Chantry.” Garrett and Marian said, simultaneously.

Leandra groaned. Malcolm rubbed her back soothingly, trying not to laugh again. Marian felt a surge of defiance – though against what, exactly, she hadn’t worked out yet – and she leapt into action, putting tight fists on her hips.

 _“We_ are _old_ enough to _do_ what we _want!”_

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t even bothering to hide his grin anymore. “Oh, really?”

Leandra lowered her hands from her face, shooting Marian a look that frightened her just a little. Nonetheless, she pushed on, stepping in front of Garrett with a determined expression. “Yes.”

“Prove it.”

Marian blinked a little, trying to work out what he meant. Then, she grinned, squaring up to her father and raising her chin. “I could take you.”

He leaned down to match her height, smirking. “You really think so, _sprog?”_

“Squishy mage like you? No chance.”

She heard Garrett clatter to his feet behind her, “Five silvers on Dad!”

“Thanks, son.”

Marian spun on him angrily, “Garrett!”

Garrett paused, looking between them with a frown, “Don't make me choose.”

“Time for bed, children.”

They turned to Leandra slowly. She had a pleasant, caring expression on her face. It was _horrifying_.

Malcolm cleared his throat, “Aren't you going to-”

“In the morning, dear. In the morning.”

Malcolm gave them a look of such sympathy Marian considered running away then and there. But she dragged Garrett to their room instead, grumbling under her breath.

“I can't believe you don't think I could take him.”

“He's got _fire_ and stuff-”

“I could take fire.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian, Garrett, Anders and Fenris enter the Warden's Tower and start working on a way to get to Corypheus. But when Garrett picks up a strange, glowing dagger, tensions start running high...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the unannounced hiatus, folks! I had one hell of a dry spot with this one, and various things kept me from working through it. However, normal fortnightly updates should be back on the schedule again. Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy <3

“Why is _he_ here?” Anders kept his voice low as he leaned over to Marian.

Marian scowled, “Talk to Varric, _I_ didn’t want him here.”

“He’ll only make Garrett worse.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Anders threw a not-so-subtle glance over his shoulder, “Well, at least he isn’t causing trouble.”

Marian followed suit. Fenris _had_ been very quiet since they entered the Tower – possibly because Varric was the only one who would talk to him, and he was spending all his time making sure Garrett didn’t accidentally walk off a cliff. The Keep was dark here, their footsteps echoing off towering stone walls that Marian could only assume rose above them, but she could still make out Garrett’s absent, miserable expression. It was the careful, blank face she’d grown all too familiar with these past months. It made her stomach twist wretchedly. Varric rolled his eyes when he spotted them glaring and sped up, nudging Garrett to make him follow.

“Will you two stop acting like children? I told you, there’s no point turning down help when it’s offered.”

Marian ignored him, letting go of Anders’ hand and slotting Garrett in between them. His eyes twitched as if he wanted to look back at Fenris – Marian nudged him instead.

“Heard a good joke the other day. How many Templars does it take-”

“Champ,” Varric spoke in a low warning tone, gesturing in front of them.

It was a dwarf. Carta, judging by the armour – he stood just within their eyesight in the growing darkness. Alone, as far as Marian could tell, and he wasn’t attacking. He was grinning ear to ear, long beard swaying as he practically _jumped_ excitedly in place.

“Yes, yes, _yes –_ the son and daughter of Malcolm Hawke, the _blood_ of Malcolm Hawke! You bring it to us freely!”

“…Dad?” Garrett’s voice was quiet next to her.

Marian stepped forward. No matter how hard she’d tried to stop it, her chest still tightened a little at the mention of Malcolm.

“What does he have to do with this?”

“Everything, he is _everything!”_

Fenris’ voice sounded darkly behind her, “I think we should be more concerned with how interested he seems to be in your ‘blood.’”

“I hear that,” Varric muttered, stepping forward, “So why don’t you tell us exactly what you mean by that dramatic little _‘everything’_ line?”

The man tittered, “The blood of the Hawke will awaken our master! It will awaken Corypheus!”

“Riiiight…” Varric whistled, “And _who_ is this _Corypheus_?”

Marian was already frowning darkly, “He’s not getting any bloody blood.”

The man’s excited smirk began to fade, “No blood… no, no, we _must_ have the blood!”

Varric rolled his eyes, “Way to go, Champ, I _almost_ got some actual _useful_ information out of him.”

Marian scowled, “Can’t we just kill him?”

But the man was shouting now, waving his hands at the darkness, signalling to the sounds of arrows being knocked and swords being drawn, _“No_! We must have the blood! Men!”

And more men appeared, swinging swords and axes and daggers.

Varric’s long-suffering sigh was the last thing Marian heard before she rushed into the fray, “Well, now we have to.”

 

* * *

 

 

When the fighting was finally over, the first thing Garrett saw was a dagger on the ground. It was a nice dagger, all things considered. ( _‘all things’_ meaning the bodies and the darkness and, well, _everything else_ that Garrett didn’t really want to think about). It was a soft red; not quite the bright shock of blood but not quite faded enough to be dull. It sparkled. It made Garrett hear a gentle, light, beautiful song that reminded him of Leandra singing softly in the kitchen.

He vaguely heard Marian slam her sword into the dirt behind him, “Can that be all of them? Can we just be done now?”

“If only.”

_Fenris._ He furiously ignored the voice, concentrating on the song instead. What was he even doing here? It made him feel all tightly wound, and no-one was really answering his questions… or maybe he hadn’t actually asked them. It was hard to tell sometimes. The song grew louder. He took a step towards the dagger.

Varric spoke curtly, “Well, it looks like we need this _key_ thing, anyone got any ideas of where to start? We _could_ have gotten more information out of that last one, but _Champ_ here doesn’t think far enough ahead.”

Marian scoffed, “What’s the point? I don’t see why we have to play their weird game thing.”

_“Who_ wants to kill you?”

Marian sounded familiarly sullen, “…Corypheus.”

“And _how_ do we get to him?”

“The _bloody_ keys.”

_“Then_ let’s find the -”

Garrett screamed. The dagger was in his hand and red hot pain coursed up his arm, through his shoulder, stabbing at his chest. There was fire in his veins and red hot embers rushed forward from the edges of his vision. Then, everything went black.

 

* * *

 

 

“Garrett! _Garrett!”_

Marian shook him, hard. Nothing. She wrenched the dagger away from his slack grip and it clattered against the stone floor, but he still didn’t wake up. She shook him harder, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, unbidden thoughts of her mother making her tremble – stitched skin rough and bloody against her arms, blank eyes staring upwards – she wouldn’t wake up – _not again, not him, please not him -_

“Shh, love, calm down.”

Even through the armour, she could feel his gentle hand at her shoulder. She stared up at Anders as he knelt next to her, delicately placing his glowing hands over the burns on his palm, his throat, his forehead.

“You can help him, can’t you, Anders?”

She knew she was saying it again. She knew. She just couldn’t stop herself.

He winced – but he nodded, a strained smile stretching his lips, “He’s fine, really. There’s blood magic in that dagger – it’s… fused with him, I suppose. He’s just knocked out.”

Marian sniffed, “You can wake him up?”

Anders nodded, “He’s basically just napping.”

She jumped as Varric snorted behind her, “Napping? If prior experience is anything to go by, we’ll have to slap him around a bit to get him to wake up.”

Marian chuckled weakly, making an effort to still her shaking hands. She closed her eyes. _He’s fine, he’s fine…_

“What is it? What’s wrong with him?”

Fenris’ voice made her eyes snap open. She almost _growled._ She turned on him so quickly she barely felt Anders and Varric’s hands trying to stop her. She found him in seconds, storming over to him until her face was inches away from his.

“Why do _you_ care?” She hissed, “What are you even doing here?”

“Of _course_ I ca-” he choked himself off, face abruptly flushing with scarlet rage, “I’m here to _help._ If you’re so eager to get rid of me then maybe you should-”

_“I’m sorry, Leandra. I never wanted this to happen.”_

_Dad?_ Marian felt all the colour leave her face as she stared upwards. His voice. It was… _everywhere_. It came from nowhere but it bounced off the distant cavern walls, surrounding her. She couldn’t breathe. _It can’t be him._

Garrett’s voice sounded weakly from the other side of the cavern, “…Dad?”

The floor split between them. The noise was horrendous – rock screaming against rock as it teared apart, the floor between her and Garrett falling away and throwing her backwards. Marian yelled wordlessly, lunging blindly towards them – she felt Fenris’ gauntleted hand drag her back as more of the floor fell from beneath her feet and she dangled over the edge. She fought away from him, trying to jump again – a wall of red light appeared between her and the edge. It stretched as far as she could see, blocking Garrett, Anders and Varric from her sight, glowing the same sickly red the dagger in Garrett’s hand had been. The darkness seemed to press harder against her, and she stepped back from the wall, breathing hard as she stared around. She could barely see a thing.

“Fenris…?”

A shape emerged from the dark. She stepped towards it, breathing a sigh of relief – and froze. It wasn’t Fenris. It was a tall, hunched creature of fire and twisted limbs. It smiled like a crackling flame.

_“I just… I have to protect you. I have to.”_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rage demon dredges up old memories for Marian, but she's not the only one this demon's been following...

Marian heard him shouting as she was scanning the fields around the Chantry, a crease in her brow. He hadn’t been waiting at the doors for her like he usually did after she ran her errands between the farm and the Sisters, leaning against the door with a smirk in one hand a stolen carrot in the other. She bit her lip as she followed the shouts – it wasn’t just him – a woman too, and the voices of men she didn’t recognize, arguing, louder, louder…

Then he started screaming.

She took off running, feet pounding hard against the gravel and rounding the corner to the alleyway so fast she slipped on the loose stones and crashed to her hands and knees. She hissed at the pain, glanced up – and a strangled noise of utter _rage_ ripped out of her throat.

He was on the floor, curled on himself as four men surrounded him, kicking and punching ruthlessly, his blood thick on the stones.

She scrambled to her feet and charged towards them. One man landed a kick hard on Garrett’s nose and a shower of blood sprayed outwards.

Her mind went blank.

The next she knew; her father was shouting at her.

_“Marian!”_

She froze, panting hard through gritted teeth. It took her a moment to focus, wide eyes blinking away a film of scarlet. Her right fist was raised, her other wrapped around a man’s throat, pinning him hard against the wall. His face was slack, torn flesh over swollen eyelids. She stared.

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder and she jumped, twisting her fist in mid-air and aiming it towards them – but it was Malcolm, face grave as he tugged carefully at her shoulder.

He said her name again, slowly, deliberately. His fingers tightened.

She stepped away. The man dropped to the ground like a stone as she tried to wipe her shaking hands on her shirt. She couldn’t quite look away.

“Is Garrett okay?” She managed to ask. Her voice wavered.

“He will be.”

She turned to Malcolm, watching as he kneeled by Garrett’s head, hands glowing softly with a familiar healing spell. She dropped to her knees next to them, trying to find some way to help and settling for just grasping one of his hands tight. She glanced at the motionless man on the floor behind her. Her shoulders slumped.

Garrett was stirring, blinking slowly and revealing blown pupils, “…Dad?”

Malcolm laughed breathlessly, “Go on then, who’d you do this time? I hope the sex was worth it, son.”

Garrett closed his eyes, “They wouldn’t… Leave her alone…”

Marian frowned. Malcolm sighed slowly.

“It’s alright, son. It’s alright.”

When Malcolm had finished with Garrett he moved onto the bloodied man on the floor. The rest had fled, apparently – Marian didn’t know and didn’t care. A brief flare of anger bubbled up in her chest – she wanted to snarl at Malcolm, tell him the man wasn’t worth it – but chest felt too heavy. She waited silently with Garrett, clutching him tightly against her chest.

 

* * *

 

 

Malcolm couldn’t quite stop pacing. It was probably better that way. He’d tried sitting still for more than thirty seconds maybe once, twice – each time he could think of nothing more than hunting the rest of those kids down and finishing what Marian had started. And he couldn’t – _shouldn’t_ do that. So he paced instead, confining himself to the sitting room, feet snapping loudly against the wooden floor.

“I know that look, Malcolm,” Leandra’s voice startled him, worry tinging her voice as she stepped carefully into the room, “They were just kids.”

“Kids that were going to _kill_ him, Leandra!” Malcolm snarled, turning to point at her across the room, face growing hot, “They _knew_ what they were doing!”

She crossed her arms and raised a cool eyebrow, “And so did you. You stopped Marian – you did that for a _reason.”_

“Not for _them,”_ he spat bitterly.

He turned away from her and rubbed viciously at the pain that had been pounding against his forehead from the moment he’d found them. Maker, it _hurt._ Leandra stepped over quietly and gently cupped either side of his face. His head dropped and he let out a slow breath.

“She would’ve killed him…” he breathed, “ _Would_ have, if I… I didn’t think she would ever…”

“Shh,” Leandra brushed a thumb across his jaw, a tiny crinkle between her eyes, “Remember that ferryman on the ship from Kirkwall?”

It took him a moment. Malcolm glared, remembering blood on his knuckles and rage pounding behind his eyes.

“He deserved it,” he muttered darkly, then grimaced and shook his head, “But I know when to _stop._ Well, I do _now…”_

She smiled grimly, “Exactly; you _learned._ So you can teach her.”

He watched her for a moment. She stared unwaveringly back. He sighed; she was right, of course. Always was. He felt the pounding in his head finally recede a little – and tears abruptly well up in his eyes. Leandra _tsked_ and he buried his face into her shoulder and grasped at her tightly, shoulders shuddering.

“I’d never been so _scared,”_ he sobbed.

Leandra hummed, “Come on now, what if they saw you like this?”

“Just because _you_ have a heart of stone,” he smirked weakly, “…Besides, you didn’t see it.”

Her fingers tightened a little in his hair, “They’re safe now, Malcolm.”

“Yeah.” And he’d sure as hell make sure it stayed that way.


End file.
